


Bubble

by youcouldmakealife



Series: Impaired Judgment (and other excuses) [90]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 21:44:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19385224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcouldmakealife/pseuds/youcouldmakealife
Summary: But even with the constant threat of going down, and even though he misses Bryce, and his family, and Chaz, and Calgary in general, it’s pretty good. Surprisingly good.Except for the fucking spider pranks





	Bubble

Jared finds a routine in Edmonton more easily than he did last year. Well, maybe that’s not a fair comparison: by this time last year he was back with the Hitmen, so obviously it’s not exactly the same thing. Having Julius sharing a room with him both at home and away makes for a nice familiarity, though it’s occasionally inconvenient for trying to have Skype sex with Bryce purposes, and like, regular non-sexy phone calls with Bryce too. 

But then, Julius got Brouwer to kill the spider lurking in their room, and he’s very neat, and it’s harder to wallow in homesickness when you’re not alone, especially knowing that Jared’s home is just a few hours drive, and Julius is literally like, halfway across the world from his. Whatever Jared’s feeling, Julius has got to be feeling worse, not that you can tell.

The routine’s never going to be quite comfortable when he doesn’t know if he’s going to be in the line-up next game, and he has to go suit shopping because he can’t keep recycling the same ones if he’s going to be sitting in the healthy scratch box alongside guys who he kind of needs to make a good impression on. Rogers offers to take him, and Jared can’t exactly turn him down without sounding rude, even if he ends up with a bunch of suits way more expensive than he would have usually gone for. They fit well, at least. That’s what getting a suit tailored for you will do, he guesses.

Jared finds himself trading off games with Andersson, another winger on the bubble. A flexible one — he plays centre almost as often, and their fourth line centre’s struggling, so sometimes he’s Jared’s liney, sometimes he’s Jared’s usurper. It’s a kind of confusing relationship, probably just as confusing for Trenton, who’s sometimes Andersson’s centre, rarely Jared’s, sometimes usurped as well. 

If Jared was a betting man, he’d peg Trenton as the one most likely to get sent down of the three of them, Andersson to take his spot, Jared on his wing, but he’s not a betting man, and instead he’s just very nervous, like, all the time. Jared’s playing way better than Trenton, but Jared also has an ELC that won’t kick in if he gets sent down before game ten, and that’s got to be tempting. Trenton, they save salary, but he’s not earning enough to make much of a difference. Jared, they save a literal year.

But even with the constant threat of going down, and even though he misses Bryce, and his family, and Chaz, and Calgary in general, it’s pretty good. Surprisingly good.

Except for the fucking spider pranks. Jared jumps a little when he finds a plastic spider in his locker, even though it’s like the fifth time already and he knows to look out for it. He tosses it at Fitzgerald, who’s not even bothering to pretend he wasn’t the one who left it there, cackling at Jared as he dodges it. It’s not fair: Julius has only dealt with fake spiders in his locker once. Maybe because the death glare he gave Fitzgerald after had him audibly gulping. Apparently Jared’s death glare isn’t nearly as effective.

“Your face,” Fitzgerald splutters, like it hasn’t gotten old yet, and Jared throws a glove at him too, one he doesn’t duck in time.

*

Jared gets called into Deslauriers’ office after his eighth game, and he honestly wants to be sick. Would they let him know he was staying after eight? They’d probably wait until after the ninth, wouldn’t they? Do they even call you in for a meeting if they’re keeping you up? Jared guesses so. They probably have to; it’s not like they won’t and then just let you figure it out by yourself that you’re not going anywhere. There’s absolutely no way to know if this is a meeting that’s going to leave him looking at apartments or packing his bags.

It’s the second one.

“This is stupid,” Julius fumes as Jared packs, more animated than Jared’s ever seen him when a spider wasn’t actively hunting them. Jared appreciates it. Kind of. Kind of wishes he wouldn’t, because he’s going to like, miss the guy more than he expected to miss any of his teammates at this point, and that’s one more suck on top of a whole pile of other suck he’s dealing with right now. 

He has to call his parents, Bryce before they find out out from some reporter’s twitter or something, but first, first he needs to pack, because if he calls any of them he thinks he’s going to start crying, be totally useless, and he has a flight to Iowa to catch, an away game the Condors want him dressed for.

At least he won’t have trouble cracking that line-up, he guesses, if they want him in the line-up right away. Maybe he can make an impression, get called up. Probably not, because it’d blow out his first year. Well, maybe he can make an impact, at least. Play every game. Go like, fucking tanning or whatever you do in California.

Jared does not want to go to California. Too fucking bad for him, though.

Jared’s parents are bummed but clearly not surprised when he tells them. Bryce is bummed and shocked when Jared tells him. Jared doesn’t even think he’s faking it, which is ridiculous, because like, Bryce didn’t even stay up his first year. And yeah, that wasn’t his second year of eligibility, and it was a better team, but. If Jared had his way he’d be sulking about this in Calgary, but he doesn’t, and everything sucks, and he maybe cries on the phone with his mom but manages not to with Bryce, at least, mostly because Bryce sounded like if Jared cried he would, and Jared figured that’d lead to a whole feedback loop of sniffling.

“Come back soon,” Julius tells him. He came down to wait for the cab with Jared, and Jared once again appreciates it, once again kind of wishes he hadn’t.

“Do my best,” Jared says. “Someone breaks a leg and maybe you’ll have a roommate again.”

Julius’ face is terrifying. No fucking wonder they stopped putting spiders in his locker.

“Do not break someone’s leg,” Jared says hastily.

Julius scoffs, but that isn’t a no. 

“Do not,” Jared repeats.

“I don’t like you that much,” Julius says, and then, scowling fiercely, hugs him.

“Stop, I’m already sad,” Jared says into his shoulder.

“No,” Julius says, and hugs him tighter. For a skinny guy, he’s fucking strong.

*

Jared takes a billion planes — okay, two, but the one from Denver to Des Moines is tiny and rickety and terrifying. There’s a car waiting for him when he finally gets to the airport, a welcome wagon at the hotel, welcome wagon being like three guys who greet him with pats on the back and ‘welcome to the Condors’ and then herd him right into the hotel restaurant, suitcases and all, because apparently he’s late to team dinner.

Jared eats dinner. Gets assigned to a room with a guy like twice his age. Okay, like, late twenties, but Jared still feels like a gawky kid in comparison. He tells Jared to settle in, says he’s going for a drink, and doesn’t come back until late, Jared guesses, because he’s there in the morning, but he wasn’t there when Jared fell asleep.

“Hooked up,” he says to Jared’s silent question over breakfast, raising his eyebrows, and great. Jared has another Tristyn. He misses Sam. He misses Julius. He misses _Bryce_ , if he gets to have his pick of roommates.

They play the Wild, and lose. It’s not great. Lose, and then wheels up and then another city, and Jared just — wants to be back in Edmonton right now. But yet here he is, stuck with a bunch of guys who are too bad to play for the _Oilers_.

As soon as Jared thinks it he feels shitty about it. Like, for one, because it’s a shitty thing to think, and also: what the fuck does that make him then? And yeah, he’s a rookie, but no one’s talking about sending Julius down and getting another year out of his ELC. If they’re talking about Julius, they’re talking about the Calder. 

And here’s Jared. In Bakersfield.

Well, actually in Milwaukee, because of course he joined right in the middle of their longest road trip of the year. He hasn’t even seen Bakersfield yet. That’s kind of good in some ways — he’d be in a hotel room regardless on the road, so it’s a different feeling than moving into one, or billeting with someone, which he really doesn’t want to do — but also it means he’s lugging around multiple suitcases from city to city, everything he doesn’t have on hand shipped back to Calgary. Julius said he could just keep them in the room, but they might want to get him a different roommate, and anyway, who knows when Jared will be back. Could be weeks, could be months, could be not until next October. Maybe not even then.

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself,” his mom says.

“No,” Jared says. He should have called Bryce. Bryce always commiserates, and never tells him to stop feeling sorry for himself. He’s way better than Jared’s mom.

“Call Bryce then,” his mom says.

Jared can’t. He literally just got off the phone with him, and Bryce is super patient, but Jared calling him back to complain more might just push the supportive limit. Plus he has a game to prepare for, unlike Jared, who has an off night, sitting in a stupid hotel room in Milwaukee while his new roommate is out getting laid in the second straight city. Good for him. At least it means Jared has some privacy.

“Put dad on,” Jared says.

“He’ll just tell you to stop feeling sorry for yourself too,” his mom says.

“We’ll see about that,” Jared says.

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself,” his dad says the second he picks up the phone.

Jared scowls. “Mom told you to say that.” That’s not fair. She can’t just prove herself right by making dad say it.

“And I’m sure she had a good reason to tell me to,” his dad says. “You want to get out of the A? You do something about it, Jared, you don’t just sit around and sulk.”

“I’m not sulking,” Jared says.

“That game against the Wild was the best you can give?” his dad asks. “Give me a break. You got your nose out of joint, fucking show them that. Score a goal, kid.”

“It’s not like I’m not _trying_ to,” Jared says.

“Try harder,” his dad says unsympathetically.

Jared scores against the Admirals. It’s not quite the same as getting his first NHL goal, he’s sure, but it’s a pro goal and it feels fucking great anyway, especially when it ends up being the game winner. First point, first goal, first GWG, all at once. The puck goes in his bag, and Bryce is already making noises about putting it on the wall, even though it isn’t an NHL one.

Jared scores against Chicago, though they lose that one. Doesn’t score against Rockford, but nets two assists. He hopes Deslauriers is fucking watching.

“They call you up, we’re not going to let you go,” his coach tells him, and Jared smiles weakly. It’s a compliment, sure, a huge one, but also like. A worst case scenario. Not that an AHL team can refuse their parent team. Right?

Jared furiously googles that night, and there’s stuff about clearing waivers and players sent down refusing to play and all that, but nothing about that. Probably because it’s ridiculous and everyone knows that wouldn’t be how it works. Like, _Jared_ knows that isn’t how it works. He’s too anxious for his own good right now.

“No, that’s not how it works,” Bryce tells him, voice soothing. Jared has the room to himself again. Erik’s not as bad as Tristyn, honestly. For one, he’s barely ever around, which makes him a pretty good roommate by default, and if he talks in his sleep, Jared hasn’t heard it. Snores, but Jared’s usually asleep by the time he comes back to the room, so he’s just stuck with it in the morning.

“I know,” Jared says. “I’m being ridiculous, I know. I just. I wanna come home.”

And like, he doesn’t know what that means, exactly, because if he was in Calgary it wouldn’t be the way he wanted it, and Edmonton’s not home, really, but. Alberta, he guesses. He wants to be back on home turf, even if that’s home turf he keeps leaving, flying away for away games. He wants a _base_. If he can’t have Bryce’s apartment, with their ridiculously comfortable bed and his Eeyore mug and that stupid, endearing puck wall and Bryce, he at least wants to be back in Edmonton, with a roommate who doesn’t snore or like, have any negative habits Jared’s figured out, unless death glares are a habit. 

“You’re kicking ass down there,” Bryce says. “They’re going to see that.”

“Yeah, but they’re not vying for the playoffs here, Bryce,” Jared says. “Wouldn’t you want to save the skill for another year, hope you’re stronger next year?” 

“Maybe like, from a cap perspective, but fans would lose their shit,” Bryce says. “They want the best team possible. Gotta avoid pissing off the season ticket holders.”

“Yeah,” Jared says, blows out a breath. “Thanks.”

“You won’t be there long,” Bryce says.

“Promise?” Jared asks.

“Promise,” Bryce says, and obviously he has no control over it, obviously it’s not a promise he can keep, but Jared finds it comforting anyway.


End file.
